It’s evening, and the sun is going down; whether you’re in the Deschutes River valley or up in the Cascades near Salmon La Sac, you will hear the chirps of crickets. If it is in the high desert near the Deschutes the beautiful chirping that you will hear will probably be made by true crickets -- field crickets to be precise. If you are not in the high desert, but up in the forested mountains of the Cascades, it will be a whole different picture. Instead of the lovely serenade of the field crickets that could lull anyone to sleep, a loud, obnoxious screech meets your ears. Eeeeeeeeeeee!

Okay, okay, I'll admit this is a little juvenile, but years ago (when I was the sprity age of thirteen or fourteen), I really annoyed people by sending out these spoofs I had written about everyone's favorite films.

Don't judge a person by just one story... ; )
Hope you get a laugh or two out of it!

~~~~~~~

The Losers of Lorien

Who are these poor unfourtunate losers? These rejects of society? The Fellowship of the Ring!

On the eves of the forest of Lorien, the Fellowship pauses.

The shadows fell like rain filling the streets of a victorian London but on second glance it wasn't Earth. A boot black boy ran past, his tan cap wet with rain.  His ears pointed.

It was night in the land of the Fay and the rain toumbled down.  A tall dark shadow slipped threw the deserted streets.  His cloak pulled tight around him obscured his face.  He glanced back and forth to see if he was being followed before stepping into the shadow of a shop door. 

The bell on the door jangled softly as he shut the door behind him.  

Knight in home-dwelling, outpost by dark-swelling, fanfares and whispers…

Bears silvered horn, brass bugle grapples belt, heralds and wares…

Head lifted o’er battlements, hidden ‘neath darkened hood, fearless and wary….

Arassuil II, grandson of Aragorn Telcontar, fixed his gaze on Halmir and Gilloth. "Remember, don't lose your temper, no matter how this woman tries your patience."

Halmir fingered his sword hilt. "Rather would I ride to battle like my forefather Éomer than sit and listen to insults of our land and ancestors, but I will attempt to restrain myself."

"Kathy Green, Representive of the United Nations, to see King Arassuil II of Gondor, Halmir King of Rohan, and Gilloth of the remnant of the Eldar."

"Enter," Arassuil called.

Why are we creative? Why do we seek to write, sing, and paint? How can we make something from nothing?

Olori
Ólëanye ville
Ólëanye ramar
Ólëanye aiwi
Ólëanye i vilya

An úpólinye vile

I vilya ólëanye
Aiwi ólëanye
Ramar ólëanye
Ville ólëanye

Dreams

I dream of flying
I dream of wings
I dream of birds
I dream of the sky